


Mandatory Relocation and Rehabilitation

by EliMorgan



Series: Shots and Shorts [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor - Fandom
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Everyone Is Alive, M/M, Sort-of Romance?, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 14:52:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15512238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliMorgan/pseuds/EliMorgan
Summary: When Harry agrees to take in the Norse God of Mischief for a while, he expects... well, mischief. He does not expect him to shag all of his friends. He certainly doesn't expect toseeit.(Or, three times Harry walks in on Loki getting some, and the one time he does himself.)





	Mandatory Relocation and Rehabilitation

**Author's Note:**

> **I do not own the works made use of herein, none of the Harry Potter/Marvel universe features or characters belong to me. I make no money from this work.**
> 
>  
> 
> Written for the Bingo event in Marvelously Magical Fanfiction, to fill my 'Loki Odinson/Harry Potter' square.  
> (This pairing really caught me, so thank-you to the lovely admins who gave it to me.)
> 
> Set shortly after the events of Avengers in an AU where literally no government wants Loki, but nobody wants to give him back, either.
> 
> Enjoy my weirdness!  
> Eli x

“ _Merlin!”_ Harry shouted, slinging his arms over his face. Not quickly enough to escape the sight of Loki’s flexing buttocks, though - not nearly quickly enough for that. “Loki!” 

“Goodness, Harry, calm down,” said a familiar voice, and Harry moaned pitifully. 

“Hermione! Please tell me that’s not really you?” 

There was a scuffling as they - presumably - put themselves to rights, and Harry could feel Loki smirking at him.  _Feel it_. Then there was a smoochy noise that he forced himself not to gag at, and a smack, and Hermione muttered something under her breath that Harry tried  _extra_ hard not to overhear. When Harry started to feel silly and eventually dropped his hands, Loki had mercifully left but Hermione was still stood there, her cheeks splashed red with a belated blush. 

“Haven’t you heard of knocking?” 

“Oh no, it is you!” Harry slapped his hand over his eyes again and tried not to throw up. “I can't believe I just watched my best friend have sex!” 

“Trust me,” Hermione said primly, straightening her skirt, “if you'd been  _watching,_ this whole situation would be a lot more creepy and a lot less fantastically mortifying.” She paused and cocked her head. “I think I'd prefer that, actually. We might have got to finish.” 

Harry groaned deeply, completely unable to compute. “Am I supposed to pretend it’s not weird that your boyfriend looks exactly like me?” 

“He’s not my boyfriend, and he doesn’t look  _exactly_ like you, Harry,  _Gods_ -” 

“Oh, right, ok then. You’re right.” He nodded thoughtfully, trying not to imagine Loki’s arse. “Aside from the hair, the eyes, the skin, the-” 

“Well, he’s much taller than you, for a start.” 

Pause. 

“You  _bitch.”_  

* * *

 Harry walked into the kitchen, stopped, then turned right back around and walked out. 

To wash his eyes out. With soap, maybe. Bleach was also an option. There was no  _scourgify_ in the world strong enough to obliterate what he’d just seen. 

“Harry!” 

“Nope.” He sped up, one eye on the bathroom, his saviour. If only he could reach it before he was caught up… 

“This is not what it looks like,” Sirius said, skidding in front of him to block the bathroom door. Harry stared very fixedly at his shoes, debating whether it would be appropriate if, at thirty-two years old, he started to sing ‘ _lalalalala_ _’_ until his godfather stopped talking. “Ok - actually, it probably is what it looks like. I was shagging him.” 

“In the  _kitchen?”_ Harry said in a girly squeal he was ashamed of, in hindsight. “In the  _middle of the day?”_  

“Errr-” Sirius peered behind him, squinting into the light that spilled in from the window. “Yeah, alright, fair point.” 

“Oh,  _Merlin,”_ Harry turned to head in the opposite direction only to spot Loki leaned against the kitchen door, shirtless, in a pair of his godfather’s boxers. “Nope,” Harry said, covering his eyes. “Nope, nope, nope,” he continued that little mantra until he was all the way out of the house, across the street, and heading into London, praying that a day away from this insanity would convince him it had been a dream. 

* * *

 “Oh, for  _fuck’s sake_!” Harry didn't even bother to cover his eyes this time. Why should he? They were in his living room, after all -  _his_ living room. Of all the places they could have chosen! 

It was like they were doing this on purpose.  

“Are you doing this on purpose?” he demanded of Loki as he climbed languidly off the sofa. He refused to look at his roommate, sprawled comfortably across several pieces of furniture. 

“I have no idea what you mean,” Loki drawled, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Eyes almost as green, if not greener, than Harry's own. Harry scowled, turning to Neville -  _Neville_ , the  _last_ person he’d expect to be a part of this shag-a-thon. 

“What is it about him?” he asked, only just preventing himself from stamping his feet. “Fucking Hell, Nev, you’re not even  _gay!_ ” 

Neville shrugged, his hand inching to pull the throw from the back of the couch over his naked body, an action Harry was nonsensically grateful for. “He’s pretty?” 

Harry looked at Loki, stood smugly in the centre of the room without a stitch on him. Yeah, he could sort of get that - 

 _No!_  

 _Deep breaths, Harry._  

His tenuous calm, however, was completely imploded when Loki chirped up, saying, “I can be a girl, if you’d prefer.” 

Harry found himself legging it out of a house for the third time in as many days. 

* * *

 

“Take him back!” Harry growled over the phone. 

“Excuse me? Who is speaking?” chirped the secretary on the other end. 

“This is Harry  _bloody_ Potter and I saved the world once so I  _demand you take your fucking God back!”_  

“Please hold.” 

Merry elevator music came through the handset and Harry scowled, staring at it as if he could set it on fire by simple power of his mind. That this was entirely possible, and something he’d in fact accomplished multiple times, didn’t occur to him until a gravelly voice took over the line and he’d shoved it back on his ear. 

 _Ow._ Melting plastic -  _painful_. 

“Mister Potter.” 

“Fury,” Harry sighed in relief, feeling as if Christmas had come early. “You need to take Loki back. I’ve had it. I can’t deal with him anymore.” 

Fury swore, the sound muffled as if he’d held his hand over the phone. “What’s he done  _now_?” 

“Shagged  _all of my friends_.” Harry snarled, uncaring if he sounded juvenile. “Hermione, Luna, Neville, Seamus - he shagged my  _Godfather,_ Fury! There are some lines you  _do not cross_.” 

“Is that all?” 

“Is that -  _is that all?!_ I don’t think you’re hearing me, Director. I walked in on them the other morning. He had his arse in my pancakes. He was licking chocolate sauce off Sirius’s nipples.  _God_ knows what they were doing with the milk. You take him back,  _now!”_  

“Look, Potter - that man tried to enslave the human race. I don’t think letting him get his rocks off on a few of your friends -  _consenting adults,_ might I remind you - is such a high price to pay. Call me when you’ve got a real problem.” 

The line went dead, and the phone went up in flames. 

* * *

 

Harry made it home that day without incident. In fact, since his call to Fury, everything had been suspiciously quiet. He didn’t want to hope, but… well, there was something so inviting about calm. Peace. The conspicuous lack of flailing body parts whenever he walked into a room. Harry had never particularly wanted to know what happened to Gods when you took away their powers, but apparently, with Norse Gods - the Gods of killing and fucking, if you listened to Hermione - binding their powers only made them frustrated. 

Which then made them horny. 

He’d been so arrogant when Fury’d approached him about hosting Loki through his ‘mandatory rehabilitation and therapy’ (not that he seemed to be doing any of  _that)_. A Norse God? Whatever. He’d defeated a Dark Lord. Single-handedly ran one of the busiest departments in the Ministry. Was a fantastic father, despite the divorce. What was one, lousy mischief deity? He’d gone to school with  _Fred and George_. 

How wrong he’d been. 

Actually, now that he was thinking about it, the quiet seemed suspicious. Why would it be so quiet here? Loki should have been home from therapy an hour ago, usually he’d have gotten into some sort of trouble by now… 

He hunched his shoulders in anticipation of the coming storm, and stomped through to the living room, his wand out in preparation. “Loki, I swear to-  _what_ are you doing?” 

Loki glanced up from where he was reading a gaudy, red, leather-bound journal. A journal that was worn, soft and sickeningly familiar. Harry prayed desperately that it was not what he thought it was. “Sympathising.” 

“What?”  

He sneered faintly. “Dr. Cole believes that if I try to  _sympathise_ with you all, I won’t feel such an overwhelming urge to conquer you.” He flipped a page and tutted. “I must say, it isn’t working. Are you still this naive, or did you get over that in school? If so, how disappointing. This is a fascinating read. The writing itself is maddeningly prosaic, but then I suppose you were thirteen…” 

“ _Are you reading my diary?!”_  Harry gaped. Gods, but he'd known the diary had been a bad idea at the time, what with Riddle's going so spectacularly wrong, but he'd been caught up in the moment. 

Loki gave him a  _look_ that questioned his sanity. “Of course.” 

Harry spluttered helplessly. “You can’t do that! You - you just  _can’t!_  It’s wrong! That’s  _private!”_  

“You don’t think I  _really_ care about all the teenage whining, do you?” Loki grimaced. “Page after page of the stuff - ‘ _why is everybody trying to kill me?’, ‘why does everybody love me?’, ‘why won’t Voldemort just stop?’_. I don’t know about most of those things, but I’m thinking people kept trying to kill you simply because you were an annoying child.” 

“Oi!” Harry lunged to rip the book out of his grasp, but Loki was at the other side of the room before he even landed, still idly flipping through the pages.  

“That ‘therapist’ is hopeless,” he pronounced, tossing the notebook on the table. “Reading that didn’t make me want to stop conquering you. It made me want to scoop out my eyes and feed them to a Bilgesnipe, but it had no effect on how I view you.” 

“Still an ant, then?” Harry snapped, irritated at his privacy had been invaded and feeling extremely exposed.  

Loki stared down his nose at Harry. “Is that what you think? You and your people are not ants. You may be the only interesting creatures on this planet.” With a smirk, he gestured to the book. "Sickeningly clichéd teenage angst aside." 

Snorting, Harry retorted dryly, “Gee, thanks. That explains a lot.” Loki looked perplexed, and Harry laughed shortly. “All the sex?” 

Loki actually  _rolled his eyes_. “Mortals. So very uptight about these things. You more than most.” 

“Excuse me for being…” he floundered for a word that fit. ‘Disgusted’ wasn’t quite right. ‘Concerned’ wasn’t either. “Surprised,” he settled for, though it wasn’t a perfect fit, “that you’ve shagged so many of my friends in so little time.” Seriously. He'd been here a  _week_.  

“What would you have me do?” Loki asked, spreading his arms wide, head cocked as if he actually expected an answer to what seemed like a rhetorical question. 

A beat passed. Oh. Apparently, he did. 

“I don’t know! Get a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend? Honestly, I don’t care, as long as I don’t have to see you shag Remus, or Ginny, or Molly  _bloody_ Weasley!” 

“She is a comely woman,” Loki teased. Seeing Harry’s face, he sobered and put on his most serious expression. “Well, if I’m banned from sleeping with any of them, perhaps I shall have to make do with what is available.” 

He stared at Harry meaningfully, but it took a moment to grasp his meaning. “ _What?”_ he squeaked, unconsciously backing up a step. Loki followed, all grace and a smirk. Okay, it wasn’t as if he didn’t know that Loki was attractive, but he’d never really considered it. Or, if he had, only very late at night. Or early in the morning. Or on his lunch break. 

Yes, alright, he’d thought about it - it was hard not to, with his parts always flapping about the place! He wasn’t  _blind_! 

“Shall we see how naive you really are, Harry Potter?” Loki purred, closing in. Harry’s eyes fluttered, his brain jittering blankly, as he was overwhelmed by the man’s presence. He really was  _very_ tall… 

“Yes, please,” he whispered, looking up into Loki's perfectly sculpted face and gulping at what he saw there. For once, he thought he might be getting into something he couldn't handle... 

He'd probably love every second. 

   
 

 


End file.
